


Hate

by tveckling



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types
Genre: All unrequited - Freeform, Benvolio is not a happy camper, Canon Compliant, M/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 13:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12277929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: It had roared so loudly, the green-eyed monster within him, that when it stopped Benvolio felt like he had gone deaf.





	Hate

It had roared so loudly, the green-eyed monster within him, that when it stopped Benvolio felt like he had gone deaf. He stared at the body of his cousin, the man he had thought of and loved like a brother, and it seemed like he was falling into an abyss. Again.

But this time his anger, his grief, his guilt turned inwards.

It had been a miracle how no one else had caught on to the love Mercutio had born Romeo, one so far different from that of a friend. How everyone else had seen the slung arms over Romeo’s shoulders, the too happy smiles, the longing looks, the hunger as Mercutio stopped himself from reaching out—Benvolio didn’t understand how no one saw. He saw it all.

And, oh, how he envied, how he longed. For years he would have done anything to be in Romeo’s place, to be the one to receive that wholehearted devotion. Slowly, unwillingly but surely, his feelings towards his cousin turned darker, jealousy coloring his view each time he caught one of Mercutio’s heart-breaking smiles. Then, only for his world to crash down even further, Mercutio died in Romeo’s arms.

Benvolio had spent every sleepless night since going through the day, moment by moment, bit by bit. How it had all come to happen. How it could all have been prevented. He always returned to one point, one person, who was the only one who could bear the blame. Mercutio had fought for him, had died for him, had loved him. And Romeo had held him in his arms as he died—not Benvolio, never Benvolio. Romeo, not Benvolio. Always. Romeo.

He had thought it a good thing, Romeo fleeing to Mantua. Benvolio could hate him freely while he was safe in Mantua, without any familial love forcing him to put aside the darkness. His love would never amount to anything, never had and never would, so why shouldn’t he get to enjoy the darkness?

And a part of him, whispering oh so softly in his ear, told him that of course Romeo would take his darkness away from him too. Romeo took everything, it seemed. Mercutio. His love, his jealousy, his hatred. Only guilt was left, because how could Benvolio allow himself to hate the dead? Romeo was supposed to be safe, untouched, only then could Benvolio hate him freely.

And now, now he had nothing left. Nothing but shadows of love and hate, and cold tombs containing it all.


End file.
